it all falls to ash

Tuesdays nights
I wheel the rickity trash cans out to the curb
I hate disturbing the still quiet of the night
But this is by far my favorite time of day
Ciggerette smoke curls like question marks in the air around me
Punctuating the questions that spill from my head
Looking down the street, past the sidewalk and the gravel and the freeway that still buzzes with late activity
I wonder what keeps me here?
What keeps my feet from treading forward and walking away from this all?
Walking away from my depression and anger and lonliness
What keeps me here?
I notice the heat reach closer to my finger tips as the ciggerette fades to ash
With one last glance, and a sigh later
I walk back inside
Locking the door behind me